


Head to Head

by CmonCmon



Series: Raising Warriors [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Not Flirting, Okay some flirting, Soft Wars, Sparring, Star Wars AU - Soft Wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25718377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CmonCmon/pseuds/CmonCmon
Summary: Colt's finally ready to spar with his General.
Relationships: Colt (Star Wars)/Shaak Ti
Series: Raising Warriors [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1835518
Comments: 41
Kudos: 322
Collections: Open Source Soft Wars





	Head to Head

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Project0506](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/gifts), [Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/gifts).



> Would I really write Colt learning how to staff-spar and NOT turn it into an awkward flirting moment?
> 
> I'm totally split on if Alpha-6 would be proud or disappointed in Colt. The answer is probably both.
> 
> Giant thanks to [PrimaryBufferPanel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune) and Jac (with a secret AO3) for the Beta.
> 
> If you still haven't read Projie's [Soft Wars](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683775), go read Soft Wars!

His men were blessed with the subtlety of an SBD. 

Maybe it was in the template. Colt wasn’t sure he’d ever met a single vod who knew the meaning of the word. Every single trooper in the room had decided they needed a water break, or had to towel off or something similarly necessary as General Ti crossed the room to the rack of practice staffs.

She had space to train in her rooms, she’d mentioned once. Space to train and to meditate, but she preferred to meditate outdoors and to train with the troopers. 

Except for her lightsaber. It was always at her side, or resting in its place in her rooms, but he’d never seen her light it, or start it, or however that worked. Colt had seen them on the battlefield, bright bands of light in the dust and smoke of war. 

“Sir.” Colt approached, sure she was well aware of his intention. Every karking trooper was thinking about it hard enough he didn’t need Jedi powers to hear it.

She glanced up from the staff in her hands. “Colt.” 

“Would you care for a sparring partner, General?” 

The words came out perfectly friendly and neutral, and thankfully not at all like he worried he would stumble over them. It wasn’t how he’d offer to spar with his men, or even with a fellow CC, but she wasn’t one of his men, and she wasn’t a fellow commander. 

She could say no, and it would be fine. Maybe she preferred the training droids. The General had an established routine. If she said no, his men would clap him on the shoulder for the effort and tease him about his newly-developed skills that would be no help on a battlefield. 

The General’s eyes were sparkling. Of course she knew all of those things, but the choice was still hers. 

She smiled, her pointed teeth just curving over her lips. The General didn’t show that smile to everyone. He’d kept track. “I look forward to seeing your progress.”

“Me too, sir.” Colt was absolutely okay with getting his shebs handed to him. More than okay.

*

The men at least pretended to stop watching after the sixth time he found himself with the end of a staff hovering over a vital part of his anatomy. The General always pulled up short at the end of a spar. At first he thought it was a courtesy he wasn’t used to - he and his brothers were taught to make contact - but it was more likely from training with a lightsaber. There must not be much room for error learning with those.

She was lightyears better than he was with a staff. Hardly a surprise. Alpha-6 wouldn’t have been able to keep up either. But she was distractingly graceful. And she was smiling.

“You learn so quickly.” She smiled down at him as she moved the point of her staff away from his throat.

Colt could take a moment to enjoy his comfortable position - flat on his back on the padded mats, her sparkling eyes over him - as he caught his breath.

He knit his hands behind his head and rolled his neck and upper back. None of their sparring had been overly physical, but he hadn’t spent this much time flat on a mat in a long time. “Long way to go I think, sir.”

“Yes. Well.” Shaak grew serious, or at least the humor in her eyes was replaced by something more weighty. She turned away from him to adjust her lekku and straighten her tunic.

Clearly not what she wanted to hear. Nice work, di’kut.

Colt climbed to his feet and tried to ignore the vod-shaped sweat mark he’d left on the mat. “If the training droid is a more interesting spar, sir, I’d be glad to learn by watching you. Watching you fight. Observing.”

“Not interested in another round?”

Colt floundered. Of course he was interested. “Only if I’m not boring you, sir.”

Colt dragged up the hem of his shirt to scrub the sweat off his face. Did Togruta sweat? Shaak looked just like she had when she walked into the room other than maybe a bit of a darkening flush on her lekku. Maybe he hadn’t challenged her at all.

“Oh no. You're far more interesting than a training droid.” 

“Not the highest bar,” Colt joked. “But I’m glad I clear it.” His hands fell to the hem of his workout top and hesitated. The General said she didn’t care if his men were shirtless. Half the Rancor troopers in the room were shirtless. It wasn’t like she’d see anything new. Her back was turned to him, so he couldn’t even not-ask if it was okay.

Colt tugged the shirt up and rested it flat in one corner before toweling his wet hair. If Togruta didn’t sweat, this must all be very unpleasant.

He picked up his staff and fell into his stance. “Ready, sir.”

The General paused to look him over and came back into her position. “Begin.”

He might be new to staffs, but Colt was an experienced fighter. He had been learning, studying. There were no obvious patterns to her movements, nothing that could tip him off or give him an advantage. It was a pleasure to move opposite her, countering her strikes and steps. She was quick and clever and so very graceful.

_ Stars, she was beautiful. _

This was not the moment for that thought. He was doing all he could to keep up with her. As they’d sparred, he’d been lasting a little longer each time, but he was nowhere near serious competition. She was ready for a feint to her left flank. Colt blocked two strikes back at his own side and caught the end of her staff in a parry with enough momentum to pivot her balance. It was the first opening he’d seen all day. He swept her feet out from under her and followed her to the mat with the butt of the staff beside her head.

Oh. Colt stared down at her. He hadn’t meant to do any of that, but he was on a knee beside her, and she was looking up at him with wide, surprised eyes. From a distance, her eyes looked black, but up close, they were sparkled with swirls of silver. 

“Sir, are you hurt?” He snapped back to the moment, and tossed his staff to the edge of the mat.

“Well done, Colt.” She sounded breathless. Had he knocked the wind out of her? 

He began to check her over like any trooper in a spar. No obvious injuries to her arms. Her neck seemed fine. Pots was on shift in Med, so he wasn’t close enough to shout for but Colt could comm him. He moved up to check her head, carefully tracing the edges of her montals and the start of her lekku for swelling or damage. He heard her breath catch. Not that he knew what to look for on a Togruta, but karking Pots was nowhere near by and if she needed attention--

“Colt.” Shaak caught his hands in her own and he froze. “I’m unharmed. I lost my concentration for a moment. Thank you for your concern.”

“Sir.” It was half-protest, half-apology. His hands were framing her face and the entire room was dead silent. “I’ll call for Pots, he’ll check for injury. Or a medic droid.” Those existed, and would be closer than calling Pots all the way from Medical. 

“Colt.” This time his name was colored with a hint of a laugh. “I am perfectly well.”

He let her move his hands off her as she sat up, his hands folded in hers. She did look fine, but that wasn’t a guarantee she hadn’t been injured.

“This was not the first time I have been knocked down in a spar.” His General was smiling, fangs and shining eyes. “We were not nearly so attentive to every tumble taken at the Temple.”

Colt should take his hands back if she really wasn’t hurt, but he didn’t want to. “Why didn’t you avoid it?” 

“Avoid it?” Shaak cocked her head. “I would have if I’d been able to.”

Was she saying these things to make him feel better? Her being checked at Medical would be much more effective. “But you knew it was coming.”

“I did not.”

“You’re a Jedi.” He didn’t mean to say it quite so bluntly, but the point stood. “You read minds.”

Her mouth dropped open. Colt had been certain his General was far too poised to ever be caught speechless, but that seemed to be untrue. After a breath, she let go of one of his hands. Right, because they weren’t holding hands. She had simply moved his hands.

Shaak rested her free hand on his cheek. “Is that what you think? I’m always reading your mind?”

When she said it like that, it sounded very self-involved. “That’s what we learned. That those with the Force could read minds and we should shield our thoughts.” That was what they learned as littles. The point grew more nuanced as they got older, especially among CCs who would expect to work directly with Jedi often. “But that our Generals might want to… have our thoughts available.”

Her hand was still on his cheek, cupping his cheek, thumb brushing his cheekbone. He was sweaty and gross, and she still hadn’t pulled away.

Shaak frowned, maybe at him, maybe at what he’d told her. “Colt, I do not read your thoughts.” 

That was not what he had expected at all. “Sorry for the misunderstanding, sir.”

“No, Colt, please.” Her hand stilled on his cheek. “If a Jedi chooses, they might pick up impressions. I don’t know how other Jedi interact with their Commanders, but you are entitled to your own thoughts, entitled to that privacy, just like everyone else.”

“I haven’t shielded my thoughts around you.” He had, just a little, that first day they met. That was to protect his men.

“I noticed.” Another sweet flash of her fangs. “But there are so many minds, so many thoughts and feelings here. We learn when we are young to control how open we are. I keep my shields up to keep from picking up anything from you and your brothers.”

His thoughts were slowly struggling through the new information. Not only was she not reading his mind, she was choosing not to because he and his brothers deserved that. And she was protecting her thoughts in case they screwed up because of her respect for them.

She was beyond special. Wise, beautiful, brave, his General was--

“Projecting,” Shaak interrupted, lekku flushed a deeper shade of grey, a richer shade of cream between the markings, “is something we can also talk about another time.”

“Yes, sir.” He pulled back from her hand on his face, as much as he would have liked not to. They were in the middle of a training mat, surrounded by his absolutely-not-watching-every-second brothers. “Care for another round?”

“Certainly.” She gave his hand still in hers a squeeze before letting go. “I have to make up for my error in the previous one.”

With an approach like that, they’d never finish sparring. That didn’t sound like the worst outcome, so Colt kept his thoughts to himself.


End file.
